Phoenix Rising
by Ryan LovesTaylor Momo
Summary: After Makarov's Death, the remnants of what was the Inner Circle rise out of the ashes. They prepare one last final blow, a blow that will change the world, their dramatic finale. Will they succeed?
1. Prologue

**Phoenix Rising**

**Prologue**

"Before you embark on a journey of revenge, you should first dig two graves."

- Confucius

Vladimir Makarov continued to swing, as if an unseen force was pushing him. Captain John Price formerly of the 22nd SAS Regiment and Task Force 141 sat on the ledge observing him. Puffs of thick smoke escaped from his exotic Cuban cigar. Just as Captain Price got used to the peace that he had never experienced for a long time, a message came through his headset. "Price, we need to leave. You have Makarov's reinforcements on one side, and the entire police of Dubai on the other. And you're in the middle of the mess," a thick Russian accent said. Captain Price blew a final puff on his cigar before flicking it down 27 floors down. He let out a heavy sigh as he stood up. He took a final look at Makarov, and uttered two words that echoed down the majestic lobby of the Hotel Oasis.

"Bloody Hell."

Gingerly, Price made his way up to the helipad. Makarov's helicopter still laid there, a burning wreck. He approached Yuri, where he laid still. Price took his dog-tag and dragged him to the edge of the helipad. In the distance, he could hear gunfire and see flashes of light. It was gonna get real bloody and messy down there. Nikolai's Pave Low soon touched down, careful to avoid what was left of the MH-6 Little Bird that was supposed to ferry Makarov to safety.

Just as Captain Price settled into the Pave Low and put Yuri's body aboard, a thundering shock ran through the entire building. In panic, Nikolai, a usually composed man, lifted off early with Price hanging on to the mounted M2 Browning mini-gun for dear life. Nikolai managed to stabilize the helicopter, allowing Price to climb up. "What in the bloody world was that, Nikolai?!" raged Price.

It was then Nikolai realized they had an extra passenger. "Why in the world is Yuri aboard here?" Nikolai seethed in his thick Russian accent, a successful attempt to change the subject from his error just now.

"Come on, he was a good man. He at least deserves a proper burial," Captain Price said by way of explanation. "That he was," Nikolai agreed. They both respected Yuri. And Soap. And all the men they had lost in this bloody quest. Gaz and Griggs. Ghost and Roach. Kamarov. Joseph Allen, whom they hadn't even met. Sandman, Grinch and Truck. So many good men, lost in the line of duty. In the Call of Duty.

Prisoner 627 and Nikolai flew on the Pave Low into the distance, leaving behind them chaos, a collapsing building, and Vladimir Makarov. A dead Vladimir Makarov.

"Welcome to Base 66, gents," Derek 'Frost' Westbrook greeted upon arrival. Captain Price squeezed out of Nikolai's helicopter and marvelled the big bustling base. He estimated around 90 people in this circular base that covered about 120 acres of space.

"Where do you say we were again Nikolai?" Captain Price asked.

"Rockcliffe, Carlisle," came the reply.

"Bloody hell, we're next to Scotland..." Price complained as the Scottish cold started to seep in through his desert warfare attire. Next to him, Nikolai shivered a bit too. However, he was 'prepared' for he had lived in the bitter and cruel Russian winter for most of his life.

Frost shook it off. "You'll get used to it. Soap did anyway," and he suddenly stopped, fully aware of what he just said. He hastened, "Sorry, Captain Price, I didn't mean to bring up-"

"Never mind, the past is the past. Time to let it go, aye?"

Frost's mind momentarily went to the last time he met with what was Team Metal. It was just before they left for that accursed diamond mine in Siberia with Price and Yuri.

"Seeya later, Frost!" Grinch cheerfully said farewell, as usual. He was never fazed by the fact that his life would come to an end with the way he was fighting. A stray bullet, or grenade shrapnel maybe...but Grinch always responded with his maxim of "Live your life to the max".

At least he did, thought Frost.

"Aye," responded Frost. "Wanna take a tour through here? I'll introduce you to Base 66 and Force 13. You can decide whether you wanna join The Thirteen Troopers. Nikolai and Price shared a look before following Frost.

"So," Frost started," Force 13 is made up of 10 squads of 13, hence the name. The respective squads are named Apex, Covenant, Deadlock, Echelon, Eclipse, Gauntlet, Gryphon, Lightning, and Trident. The higher-ups decided to have flashy names for all of us. Typical suits. Anyway, back to Force 13. Task Force 141 was indeed reinstated, however, General Shepherd's treachery came to light at the same time, and thus the reinstatement is cancelled because of the broken legacies that Shepherd left behind.

There're a total of three bases, including this. The other two are based in Dededo, Guam and Elko, Nevada. They're named Base 64 and 65 respectively. 64 houses Alpha, Bravo and Eclipse squads; 65 holds Delta, Echo and Gryphon, and 66 is owned by Foxtrot, Sierra and Romeo and Trident. Our motto is "Aere Perennius" meaning "More lasting than Bronze". "Alea Iacta Est" is the second one, meaning 'the die has been cast'.

Force 13 is not a force designed to address a certain area. As a matter of fact, there are already more than enough of these task forces. Force 13's role encompasses everything and anything. Its role includes: Reconnaissance and Surveillance, Assassination or VIP Protection, Tactical Sabotage, Counter-Terrorism and Counter-Insurgency, and Hostage or High-Value Target hunting. This will be unconventional warfare on a whole new scale. This world is still as tense as ever before World War Three, and the allies that formed this Task Force are willing to put this team in danger.

This team is made up of members of many countries. They include: America, the United Kingdom, France, Germany, Netherlands, Canada, Italy, Spain, Poland, India, Australia and New Zealand. There's no lengthy selection process or anything. You prove yourself, you get in here. I think you two are already perfectly suitable.

We are our own team. We are by ourselves, and we are essentially a mini military. We have our own requisitioned air and sea transport, including land too. We have our own Intel and technology division, and our very own engineer corps. Here, lemme show you our babies. Now, here's a-"

"A bloody European Typhoon! Wait, two! Krovayy Ad..." Nikolai gasped.

Frost smiled. "I see you know our planes already. We have two F-22 Raptors and a Sukhoi Su-35. Lastly, we have two F-35 Lightnings. Besides that, we have a Tu-160, a B-2 Spirit, and a B-52 Stratofortress. We have three AC-130s and another three A-10 Thunderbolts. We have an EA-18G Growler to provide electronic interference, six E-3 Sentries to patrol the perimeter and multiple V-22 Ospreys and C-130s. We got multiple Super Cobras, Blackhawks, Little Birds, Sea Knights and Mi-28 Havocs. Plus Nikolai's signature Pave Low. UAVs include Predators, Reapers, Global Hawks, Sea Scouts, Sentinels, Hummingbirds, Ravens, Pumas and Gray Eagles. Enough for you, Nikolai?"

Nikolai nodded intensely. In all of his 29 years of flying, he had never seen so much aircraft in his whole life. He immediately started to relish the thrills of piloting each and every aircraft.

"Now let's move onto the naval part. We don't have many naval resources, just some SDVs and assault boats. We do have numerous patrol boats with quite a lot of firepower, trust me. We can requisition any ship under the jurisdiction of the 10 countries in this sort of 'alliance'.

And now the land vehicles. We got hundreds of Humvees, 60 Strykers, 20 Terrexes, 20 MOWAG Piranhas, 50 Boxers and 50 Patrias. There's also about 50 Pumas, 100 M2 Bradleys, 30 K-21s, 50 Warriors and 20 Bionix AFVs. We got a couple of the big guys as well, like the Leopard 2, the Challenger 2, the TK-X, and the M1A2 Abrams. And that's about it, you'll know more when you join The Titanic Thirteen. So what's your decision?"

Captain Price smirked, a smirk that had not been seen since the death of John 'Soap' MacTavish.

"What choice do we have?"

_Hi guys! I'm Ryan, a newbie here so gimme ur reviews! Sorryyy I'm a weapons and stuff nut so I basically spammed hehehe anyways looking forward to the next chapter!_

_~Ryan LovesTaylor Momo~_


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"We sleep safely in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would harm us."

— George Orwell

"Lemme introduce you to the guys here, aye?" Frost said. Captain Price hesitantly nodded. He wasn't accustomed to meeting new team members. They walked forward to the 7 story building that was the Trident Team's headquarters and living quarters. As if on cue, the giant doors opened with a loud clang. Various shouts emanated through the facility. As he stepped into the giant facility, the shouts quickly turned into a reverent silence. Price looked up. Each story was about 6 meters tall. Hushed whispers like "Its John Price" or "Is that Price" flew through the whole building.

Captain Price broke the silence. "The name's Price. Captain John Price." A few more seconds went by, before a man, walked out of the crowd. "Alfonso Canura. Pleasure to meet you." He gave Price a firm handshake, then gesturing to the three women behind him. "Maria, Anastasia and Marcellin. Marko, he's still having some stomach problems."

Suddenly, a voice could be heard. "Why so quiet?" Marko Hitzmann walked through the crowd, before coming face to face with Price. "Oh. John Price. Welcome to Trident. Better prove yourself, Mr Price, old people in battle are a burden." purposely ignoring Captain Price's rank, before walking away. The atmosphere became tenser.

"What the heck's wrong with that bloody guy? Does he not have this three words in his freakin' vocabulary: Acceptance, Tolerance and Team Work?"

"He, err, not so nice to Englishmen. You understand?" Alfonso tried to explain.

Captain Price brushed it off. "It's okay. He's gonna suck up to me someday, that I will guarantee."

Just then, a familiar face emerged, followed by a few more. A yell of "Sonny!" rang out, and the yell had a very familiar Scottish accent. MacMillan emerged, along with Sergeant Foley, Corporal Dunn, Private Ramirez, Sabre and Faucon. Price embraced MacMillan warmly. MacMillan gave Price a pat on the back.

"What a long time, my friend."

Price nodded. "Yes, indeed."

Frost interrupted the impromptu reunion. "Let me introduce you to the whole squad."

Captain Price walked forward and shook hands. As a veteran, he was not used to being introduced to people, and rather other strangers being introduced to himself. He found himself in an extremely awkward position.

They walked forward, one by one. The people he didn't know were Isabella 'Wolf' Williams, a pretty woman around 30 with blonde hair tied in a simple ponytail; Anastasia 'Shadow' Skura, another pretty lady with blonde hair and Maria 'Decoy' Taylor, a brunette in her 20s. He could get used to Alfonso and Marko. And the rest he was well familiar with, having worked with them before. He walked on with Frost.

"Wait, McMillan couldn't possibly be in the field right? He's 54, for god's sake. What's he doing here?" Price was astonished.

Frost explained, "He'll be in charge of Team Trident. He'll oversee your operations, make minor decisions depending on the situation out in the field, basically he's HQ commander of Trident."

This led to another question. "Who's the commander of Force 13 then? I realised I haven't asked."

"Ahhh, I forgot about it. Since we're runnin' out of time, why don't I bring you to HQ over there and you can explore the Trident facility by yourself. The training center's just next door, probably all that you need to know. Let's go then. You can see for yourself."

Being troopers who always took the most tiring route when going someplace, the trio elected to jog some 2km to Headquarters. They reached there in no time. They had to go through extremely stringent checks before managing to enter. After that, they proceeded to the top floor, where General Beckwith's command center was. They cut through it and entered his spacious office.

General Beckwith looked up from his papers. "Hey, Frost. Who's with ya?"

Just then, Captain Price stepped out from behind Frost. "Becks? Why the heck are you doing here? I thought you were busy being Overlord, Centcom Comm." The two men shared a warm embrace before General Beckwith explained.

"Was too weary of battle. As a General Commander, I always wanted to control troops in some major wars. But after World War Three, I decided I could not take it anymore. Millions of soldiers and civilians all dead... Nuclear bombs exploding... Jeez, Shepherd must have been hard hit."

Price bristled at the mention of his enemy. "He's nothing but a coward. Just because he was so inept he allowed a nuclear bomb to wipe out 30,000 of his men in just a blink of an eye."

"Okay chill, but at least I know joining Force 13 was the right decision. I can never retire from war. And besides, this is a much more refreshing experience."

Frost spoke up. "Wait, so how did you guys know each other?"

Price answered. "That was bloody long ago," he let out a sigh.

Beckwith continued. "It was a joint operation between the Delta Force and the 22nd SAS Regiment. 3 men from each squadron. Our mission was one never undertaken before. Parachuting into a territory, afraid the soldiers there would think that you're the enemy was bad enough. But this time, we went deep, deep into enemy territory. The year was 1986. The Soviet Union was still very powerful, even though they were just 5 years away from collapsing. And guess we went? Moscow. The mission was to extract a high-level defector as soon as possible. She would, too do her part, walking to somewhere her guards would find it hard to follow. But still, we had to use guns to eliminate those in our way. The NATO countries all knew how this would generate a diplomatic argument with Russia."

Price continued, "The insert location was in Elektrostal, 20 miles away. As we would not blend in carrying the normal gear, we only brought along a sling bag each, to carry our supplies that would last us three days. We concealed our pistols, submachine guns and ammo beneath our think winter clothing, like how a Muscovite should look like. As soon as the plane flew over the drop zone, we got the fuck out. The highest jump I had ever attempted. A 8km high HALO jump. Goddamn thrilling yet bloody dangerous. What was even more better was the fact that the Russians didn't even get an inkling of what had happened. The plane just flew over Mother Russia like no shit had happened. A bloody miracle."

Beckwith continued on. "So. We crept through the dense foliage, moving only at night. Daylight was just too risky to make any move. Not a hard task though, not many patrols around. After one day without sleep, we finally made it. We then separated, as groups more than four would arouse suspicion, such is the Soviet Union at the time. We would rendezvous at a café three blocks away from the defector's residence, then take the chance to replenish our stomachs and supplies. Vodka was always a good choice and preferred. And so we set off. But we lost our concentration and started to get careless, thinking that the hardest part was over."

"Absolutely wrong," Price chimed in.

"No way man. How could you guys even- you were in the capital city of your greatest enemy. Out there were millions who would be willing to kill you!" Frost exclaimed.

Beckwith sighed. "I know. Got caught for littering by some eager recruit of the Moscow Militia who just wanted to give out his first few summonses. And I was his extremely unfortunate target. What was a routine stop-over escalated quickly. I started to panic, lose my wits. All the training by CIA vanished away. The militiaman grew suspicious and asked for my papers. Had to kill him. A clean bloodless neck snap. No regret, no remorse. Just dumped him into the dustbin at the end of the alley. As far as I was concerned, he was a threat to my self-survival, and I had to eliminate him to continue. No sooner, we arrived. We quietly observed our target for about an hour while eating, then set off. As we approached, just on cue, the defector walked out of the building. The defector, whose identity we didn't even know, for security reasons, was Yuri Antonovich Aslopov. The second highest ranking officer in the defense ministry, a war hero. Yuri was pretending to go out for a camp with associates through some mountains. What was his personal belongings that he had to bring were all hidden in his camping bag. He pretended to see us, who just happened to be his squad-mates in the Red Army during WWII. There were embraces and that sort of thing. He invited us to sit with him is his private car, making it much easier to get him out, with six men against four personal guards. Only two minutes were spent idly chatting before we got control of the car. Two bullets from every man's pistol buried itself into each guard's body before they even knew what had happened. Quickly, we swerved away from the convoy, leading the guard cars in a chase around Moscow. It was time for the guns. Eventually, we managed to shake off the guard cars, but not for long. The whole Soviet Union was raised to military alertness, their version of DEFCON 4. With a flashy car and the public plus militia everywhere, we would not go very far without getting busted. As soon as we got to the outskirts of Moscow, we immediately dumped the car and burned it. However the resulting explosion echoed throughout Moscow and provided a straight indicator of where we are. Literally. We had no choice but to go undercover through the dense foliage. This time was a lot harder. We didn't dare to move a muscle during daylight. But we moved like lightning and not like thunder, and soon enough, we were at Elektrostal. We arrived at the extraction point, at a field next to a highway, just as the CH-46 Sea Knight landed. Bloody lucky if you ask me. But then, just as we thought we finally were away, a whole bloody company arrived at the other side of the highway. The Sea Knight had to disengage before firing its machine guns onto the enemy. It lowered its SPIE Rig at the same time, and we started to climb aboard. About a hundred of them died before a wild RPG smashed into the cockpit, splitting the heli into two parts which spiraled to the ground. The front part managed to land among a couple soldiers, leaving about 30 soldiers still there. Meanwhile, one SAS trooper died, from shrapnel as he was the highest towards the helicopter.

Price cut in. "Corporal Allen. A real role model to me. Was strict as hell, and was consistently brilliant. We managed to take down about 20 of them before reinforcements arrived from Moscow. We had no choice but to escape towards Ivanisovo, a small town just a few kilometers away. The enemy thought we had escaped into Elektrostal instead and started a massive purge in there. Meanwhile, we quietly radioed in Headquarters and advanced past Elektrostal, wanting to get away from that god forsaken place. We received instructions a few hours later. We were to advance to the next town, Subbotino. The Russians weren't gonna be fooled that long. They eventually realised we had escaped into the forests. So Ivan started bombing the forests. Bloody awful. You didn't know whether the next bomb would land atop your head. Patrols were sent out, to comb what was left of the forest. Flamethrowers went out too, and lit alight the whole forest. We were starving too. We only had one more day before our supplies ran out and thus we had to ration our meagre one meal per day. Just a few bites of bread and sips of vodka kept us going. We struggled through to Subbotino. Some bomb shrapnel had found itself into one of our guys, and he instantly dropped dead. However, we were nothing but sad. That meant more supplies. We were only thinking, "Bloody Hell, why would the Russians be so aggressive?" And the suits hadn't considered the fact that Moscow was basically filled with the enemy, we had no chance of escaping like that. And this mission dragged on and on. We finally reached Subbotino. We staggered across the plains and reached the small town. There, we confronted the three companies that were stationed there. We used stealth to eliminate some troops. Served well. We decided to retreat to the plains where our extraction would occur. Defend it. Anyone who would come near during the last fifteen minutes would die. A horrible death. The hours ticked by, until there was a quarter of an hour left. We all were ready for opposition in our positions. We put all sorts of defensive maneuvers to use. We improvised simpler explosive devices from the 1 or 2 C4 packs we had each. We were all ready. I could start to hear shouts of 'They're in Subbotino'."

Beckwith continued. "Troops started emerging from the tree-line to the west. We could hear explosions and tortured shouts. And we fired. And fired. Bullets flew straight into their foreheads. And they all fell to the ground. The Subbotino troops started to emerge too. We were gonna get overwhelmed. We could only dispatch two troops there to hold then off. And then troops emerged from the south. That was the end as we knew it. But God gave us a gift. A life-saving gift. Called a helicopter. It flew towards the north, motioning us to sprint there too. We ran and we ran and we ran. We came to the end of the plain in no time. The pilot put down a SPIE Rig as he provided covering fire. We too, did so. Price , Yuri and I went up first. But the RPGs emerged and the pilot had to disengage again, flying around frantically. I remember his shout: "We gonna die! Gotta leave them behind. The two men down there knew it as well. Private Baler and Corporal Ted-Lee were brave men. They ain't gonna sacrifice us for themselves. I remember they said "Go! Just fucking go!" And the helicopter left in a split second. We desperately tried to provide covering fire, but all we could see was two vanishing dots, and then blood spurted from both of them. We knew that they were dead. One of the worst missions to make acquaintances."

Price took in a heavy breath. "It could've been us," he sighed.

Frost shook his head. "Sorry to hear it," he remorsefully said.

Beckwith shook it off. "Never mind," he said, "you've gotta mission to do tomorrow. Better get your sleepy ass ready, eh?"

Price and Beckwith embraced once again. Price said, "Nice seeing you mate."

Beckwith nodded. "Good luck, man. I'll send the mission briefing later."

Price and Frost went back their barracks, and ate and slept. After all, they got a mission tomorrow.


End file.
